


Just Say It

by capildissexy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capildissexy/pseuds/capildissexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pwp prompt fic. This is a more dominant doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Say It

Another prompt fic! I'm fulfilling the spirt of these….

Hello! I'd like to request a smutty whouffaldi prompt. I was thinking Twelve could use his guitar to seduce Clara since he knows how much she likes his grungy rockstar look. Preferably Dom!twelve. Thanks!

Um…except I went with my fantasy rockstar Doctor look….that means leather.

Prompt - Twelve proves to Clara that he's still got it. Established relationship Twelve x Clara. Bonus points for including the Zygon Computer with frond action.

12

Just Say It

"Clara! You're coming tonight, aren't you?"

Clara Oswald was only half listening to Nina as she surveyed the sorry contents of her refrigerator: curdled milk, scary fuzzy-looking carrots, and a container of leftovers she was afraid to even open. She gathered up the lot and chucked them in the waste bin. Hazard of having space adventures, she supposed. It'd cost her a fortune in groceries over the years.

Since Clara had promised Danny Pink that she'd "get on with it", she'd been forcing herself to live. She went to work, saw her friends. Clara went through the motions. Fake it until you feel it. And eventually it worked. She was content now. Things were far from perfect, but she'd pasted herself back together.

This morning, the Doctor had unceremoniously dropped her off at school and then taken off in a hurry. And she was still a bit disgruntled. She'd wanted another trip, another adventure. But the Doctor had said he had plans and he wouldn't be seeing her for a few weeks, but he'd stubbornly refused to elaborate. Instead, he'd told her to get another hobby with a bitter edge to his voice. Lately, he seemed to tell her that a lot.

"Clara!" Nina said. "I won these tickets from the radio station and they're the hottest in town. I was lucky to get them and I'm sharing this experience with you and you don't even care!"

She blinked. "Right. Sorry. Concert tonight. I'll be there. Who are we seeing again?" Clara asked.

Nina had told her, but she couldn't recall. Clara wouldn't be busy tonight anyway.

The thought of not seeing him, even for a few days, made her nervous. But she hadn't mentioned it. The Doctor didn't like to talk about his feelings and neither did Clara. Most things were better left unsaid.

The Doctor was her world now and both of them knew it. Clara understood the Doctor fretted about it, about her. But being with him made her feel whole again. He'd given her the will to live. She needed him more than ever. If Clara were being honest with herself, she only felt alive in his presence.

And one night, after some whisky, they'd become more than friends.

She didn't put a name to it and what they had was casual – comfort, lovemaking, solace. Because it only happened at night, there was something dreamlike about their joining, as though it were a shared fantasy. And now, after an adventure, they shared a bed. They hugged, held hands. But he only kissed her, held her intimately in bed. As though they had a silent agreement that all bets were off elsewhere.

Every so often, Clara would catch the Doctor studying her, as though willing her to say something, to acknowledge their changed relationship. To make it real. But Clara never did. Couldn't. Something kept holding her back.

She'd told Danny Pink that "those words" were his. And then he'd up an died on her. Snuffed out in a freak accident. She'd never say I love you to another man. Even if she felt something…

Nina's voice brought her back to reality. "Honestly, Clara. Have you been living under a rock? How can you not know who Smith is? Everybody's talking about him."

"Okay, okay. I'll be there."

After making arrangements to meet up, she switched off her phone and set about putting her flat to rights. By the looks of things, she'd be busy for a good long while.

12

Clara walked into Celestial, a new club in Dalston, a trendy London community. The club had been a warehouse at one time and still had an industrial feel. The floor was concrete and the furnishings were all metal. The ceiling was a velvety black dotted with stars.

Clara liked it immediately. It reminded her of outer space. Being up there, in the stars was where she belonged now. Time spent on this planet was boring. Unending. Clara couldn't care less but some club singer, but she'd go, have a few drinks, maybe a few laughs. Live a little. Or fake it. Tonight she'd be Earth girl extraordinaire.

The club's clientele was a bit older – young urban professionals in their late twenties and early thirties. For some reason, it was filled with young women. She didn't see a man in sight. It reminded her a piano bar. It was a place for good music and conversation, not dancing. There was sleek black stage in the far corner of the room. But no act playing. Yet. Instead, a DJ spun records, but no one paid her any attention.

"You're late," Nina said with a scowl. "It's a good thing our seats are reserved."

"Traffic was a nightmare," Clara said, lying easily. She'd literally been dragging her feet over here. "So let's see that Smith fellow." And get this whole pointless thing over.

After procuring drinks and making small talk, Clara and Nina took a seat near the stage. Suddenly the lights dimmed and the crowd gasped in anticipation. A lone figure with a black and white electric guitar stepped on the platform, standing under the blue lights. A thin, silver-haired figure wearing black leather trousers, thick-heeled boots, a white button-down shirt, and a black coat. And on his angular face, perched a pair of sonic sunglasses. He'd gelled his hair as well, making it stick up a bit. It reminded her of his suity earlier incarnation.

Smith was the Doctor. The Doctor was Smith.

And those pants…

Oh my God….

Clara clapped a hand over her mouth as a rush of desire shot through her. She'd seen his formal wear as well as his grungy tartan trouser look. This was rock star Doctor.

The Doctor started playing Hot in the City by Billy Idol. She knew he'd taken up the guitar, but she had no idea he'd started playing gigs. He had the guitar licks down and the vocals were good, too. Of course, he'd probably practiced with Billy himself. As the Doctor played, he slowly wandered around the stage, strutting as he made eye contact with the crowd. The Doctor loved being the center of attention and a throng of spellbound humans hanging on his every word pleased him.

The lying bastard. How could he keep all this from her?

And then she saw why…

He was loving the roll of rock god. And he seemed more powerful somehow. Like he was soaking up their energy and enthusiasm. The Doctor had an ego the size of a galaxy and this adulation made it loom larger. Clara noted with irritation he delighted in female attention the most, bending down to croon to them as he walked by. Women screamed, touching his pant legs, stroking any part of him they could get close to. The Doctor soaked it all in, grinning.

And then his eyes lit on her.

He watched her over the rim of his sunglasses and then winked at her. The crowd howled in appreciation.

Nina bumped her shoulder. "Oh my God. He's flirting with you!"

The Doctor continued to sing to her and it made her stomach clench. Those damn butterflies were at it again.

But after the song ended, the Doctor switched gears, playing another punk song. Making the women howl and scream for him. But this time, he didn't acknowledge her. Instead, he swaggered around the stage, whipping the women up into a frenzy.

Clara watched it all. Glaring. Green-eyed.

And fuming.

12

After the concert, Clara blew off Nina and waited for the Doctor in the TARDIS. She'd found it behind the club, parked in an alley near the door. He probably kept it close, so he could bring a female fan or two home for God only knows what.

After an hour or two, he strolled in the door, carrying his black guitar case. The Doctor had a series of lipstick kisses on his right cheek. Some woman had kissed him? Thrown herself at him?

"There you are," he said, glancing up at the gallery. "I was wondering if you'd pop in."

"Disappointed?" Clara turned to face him, still seated in his leather chair.

He frowned. "No."

"So, you're starting a music career?" she asked tightly.

He set the guitar down on the jump seat and took the stairs two at a time. "It's a hobby," he said as he reached the top and then leaned against the railing. "Hobbies are important, Clara." She couldn't see his eyes behind the sonics, so she didn't know quite how to take the comment.

"Yes, a hobby you didn't tell me about."

"I don't tell you everything." He was still thrumming with that energy from the crowd. She could sense it, somehow. There was something darker about him tonight. He had an edge.

"I've noticed," she said. "So, what? You're playing gigs…collecting groupies." Clara hated to admit, but she was bitter. He was playing clubs, looking like a sex on a stick. Women were probably propositioning him right and left. And she didn't have the right to say anything about it. They hadn't defined their relationship. They weren't exclusive.

"Well, it appears I have one at least," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not your groupie." She glanced at the red smear on his cheek. "Who kissed you?"

The Doctor swiped it off with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, and then tossed it on the floor. "Didn't get her name."

"Did she give you anything else?" Clara asked, glowering at him.

The Doctor pulled a pair of lacy black knickers from his pocket and tossed them to her. Clara batted them away. Disgusting. They fell to the floor and she kicked them away with the toe of one shoe. She felt like setting fire to them.

He smirked, smug as hell. "Apparently, I've still got it…and other women want it."

"And did you….did you…?" Clara braced herself. Dammit. All of this was her fault. She should've straightened this out ages ago.

"Did I what, Clara?" he asked, stepping closer. There was something slightly predatory in his demeanor. Something thrilling. She'd seen him take command of a situation before, but with her he always held back.

Not anymore, it would seem.

She sucked in a breath. "Are we really going to talk about this?"

"About your jealousy?" he asked.

"I'm not jealous!"

"Oh, yes, you are. Look at you. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide and snapping." He grinned at her. Was he pleased? "Is there something you want to say to me, Clara Oswald?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. Studying her. "Say it."

Clara stood with her hands fisted at her sides. The words were bubbling up. She didn't think she could hold them back. "I…"

"What?" He was practically daring her.

"I don't want you to see other people!"

A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips. "And why's that?"

"Because I…because…"

"Say it, Clara. Say it like you mean it.

"I love you, you idiot!" She shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth. Oh, God. She'd said it. Had she cursed them both?

The Doctor pulled her into his arms. "It's okay, Clara. Nothing bad will happen to me, I promise." He kissed the top of her head. "Or you."

She pulled back to look up at him. "And…how…how do you feel?"

"Isn't it obvious, pudding brain?" \

"Say it….if I have to say it, so do you."

"I love you, too. Happy?"

"No," she said sullenly.

"So no more skulking around your bedroom, pretending this isn't happening. What we have is real and out in the open. I'm not one of your hobbies…."

"You never were, I was just being…"

"A pain?"

"Yes, maybe. Okay then." Clara wagged a finger at him. "And no more lipstick kisses and knickers."

He chuckled. "What about your knickers, jealous?"

"What about them?"

"Take them off. We're going to do something a bit different tonight," he said. "New rules. Doctor knows best tonight."

"You're going to be in charge?" she asked, surprised. She'd always been the one initiating. But the idea sent her a thrill rushing through her body.

"This time. I'm feeling a little….forceful tonight. Are you game?" he asked.

Clara didn't even have to think about it. "Yes." She bit her lower lip.

The Doctor groaned at the sight. "Turn around and take off your knickers, then. Chop. Chop."

Clara turned, facing the chair. She reached beneath her skirt, and pulled down her panties. They were plain and white. She suddenly wished she'd worn something a bit more exotic. At least she hadn't worn tights.

The Doctor gathered them up and stuffed them into his pocket.

Then, he sidled up behind her and pulled her in against him. She could feel his erection, straining through the leather, like a hard steel rod. Clara moaned, pressing into him. Unashamedly.

He wrapped his arms around her, palming her breasts through the thin cotton shirt, swiping at her stiffened nipples beneath the fabric. "Mine…all mine."

Clara didn't disagree.

His breath was hot against her ear. "I've been wanting to do this since I saw you in the club," he murmured. "Would you let me, Clara? If I took you backstage? Would you've done this for me in the club?" He yanked her shirt up and then pushed her breasts over the cups of her bra.

God help her, but the answer was yes….

"Say it, Clara," he ordered.

"Yes!"

He flipped up her skirt. "Now brace your hands on the arm rests."

Clara did, bending over so her arse was in the air. She couldn't resist wiggling a little. The wetness was trickling down her thighs. All she could think about was getting him inside her. And then his hands were on her backside, cupping her rear. His fingers dipped into her sex and Clara moaned. He traced the lips, lazily, making her quiver.

"I didn't want to push you. You were easing into this…into us. Sometimes, I like to play a bit rough."

"I noticed."

He swatted her rear. And she heard the whir of his zipper behind her and the blunt head of his cock rubbed between her cheeks, then grazed the lips of her sex. He was hot and hard.

"Doctor!" she called.

"Yes, Clara? Do you need something?" he asked hoarsely.

"Please. I need you inside me."

"Oh, I like the please. Happy to oblige," he said, thrusting into her. The Doctor held on to her hips as he took her hard and fast. Lunging into her body. Then, he took her, thrusting, angling his body so she came for him, gasping.

The Doctor finished right after and then pulled her onto his lap as he sank down into the chair. He pressed kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, and finally her mouth. "See how easy life is when you just say it?"

"Oh, shut up." And then Clara kissed him. This time, she intended to be in charge.


End file.
